Rumour Has It
by chrisspiration
Summary: When Kurt has a one night stand and literally runs into someone while doing the walk of shame, the attractive stranger decides to help him out. This is the story of how Kurt and Blaine meet, become friends, and get together.


**FRIDAY, 25TH**

_6:45am_

The opening chords of_ Phantom of the Opera _have Kurt reaching over for his phone and silencing the alarm with a swipe of his thumb. He groans, hoarsely, and rolls onto his back; takes a deep breath, cracks an eye open—and sits up as quickly as if he'd been shocked up his spine.

Shit, shit, _shit._

His head is _pounding_, and he feels like a ton of bricks keeps slamming onto both sides of his head. His stomach churns. He feels like he wants to vomit his intestines out.

And he has to be at the building in one hour.

_7:00am_

The door squeaks as he pulls it open, but thankfully doesn't wake the other occupant of the room, whose own nakedness Kurt had hurriedly covered with the sheets as he slipped out.

Nose scrunched up, he concentrates on pulling it shut behind him, turning the handle so he can close it properly, and hugs his wrinkled and (as he had been horrified to find two minutes ago) _stained_ shirt to his chest.

The door closes without much sound, and he lets out a breath.

Now, how the _fuck_ is he going to get out of this building? Kurt presses his lips together, looks around the hallway, where thankfully the rest of the doors are closed, so nobody can see him in this state.

Logically, he knows he's not going to be able to get away to the safety of his own loft unseen by _anybody_, since it's a weekday and there's bound to be people getting ready for classes now… but a guy can hope, right?

He makes it to the stairs without an incident, and down two flights of stairs, rushing, running a little—he knows exactly what he looks like: he looks like a guy who spent the night in a stranger's bed, had sex, and is attempting to sneak out unannounced.

There's literally no way he could explain himself out of this situation.

Which is why he's taking the stairs down two at a time, and why it hurts so much when he _slams_ into someone going_up_ around the corner, and who, by the force of the incident and the loud 'umphs!' that they both emit, had also been running.

"Ow, fuck!"

"Christ!"

Kurt actually _falls_, backwards, onto his (already sore) ass at the top of the platform, and watches the other guy cling to the railing to avoid falling down the entire flight as well. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry!" he rushes out, scrambling to his feet and reaching over to help the other guy straighten up.

He takes his hand and stands up, looking dazed as he turns to Kurt and lets out a puff of air between his lips. "Did we switch bodies?"

Kurt stares at him, expression blank, for a while.

If he glanced down at himself for a split-second it was to check that he wasn't bleeding, of course, and then he looks up at the guy again, who's dusting off his _capris_—bright red, at that—and looking up at him with raised eyebrows. "I see that we didn't."

"…no," Kurt says, slowly, for a moment forgetting his current state and why he's hurrying out of this building.

The guy shrugs. "Figured that slamming into you as hard as that might've merited something_ Freaky Friday_, at the very least." He stops, then, and _really_ looks at Kurt. "—but um, it just seems to have been—uh… painful."

_Now_ he remembers very clearly what his state is, and Kurt flushes deeply, attempting to straighten his clothes, and wonders if he can pass all of this off as a result of the fall.

The guy's still staring. "You don't live here, do you?" he asks, cocking his hip and it seems like he's forgotten all about his rush, too.

Kurt looks around, avoiding the guy's eyes, feeling his face hot. "Um… would you believe me if I said that I do? And that—I can't remember how to get out because…"

"The slam!"

He whips his head back. "What?"

Capri-pants is grinning at him. "Sudden bout of amnesia because of the incident. Totally normal."

"Right," Kurt mumbles, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, and catches a glimpse of his watch. "I—ah, I really have to get going, because I um—fuck, I live in the other side of the city, I'm sorry, excuse me."

Ducking his face, Kurt steps down the stairs around the guy, cursing himself mentally for this entire situation before a hand at his shoulder stops him. "Hey, wait!"

He manages two more steps before looking over his shoulder, exasperatedly. "What?"

"I know this might be super weird, because we just met—or well, we didn't really _meet_, we more like, collided, but—anyway," the guy shakes his head and motions with a thumb behind him, up the stairs. "You can borrow my shower if you want. And um… some clothes?"

Kurt stares, yet again. "…I don't think so."

"Andrew."

What is _with_ this guy? "No, Kurt," he clarifies, narrowing his eyes and once again wondering why he hasn't left yet. It might have something to do with the way this guy's eyes are doing things to his stomach.

The guy laughs, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. "No, I mean… you um—you came home with Andrew last night, didn't you?"

There goes all hope that his appearance went unperceived by Handsome-Capri-Pants.

Kurt lets out a breath and clenches his teeth. "Yeah. So?"

Raising his hands up on either side of him, the guy shakes his head. "I saw you at the party last night, that's all. My dorm's down the hall, and you look like you're in a hurry—"

"I am."

"—I just figured you might not want to cross the entire school courtyard um—well, like—" He looks uncomfortable, and nervous, and he bites his lip before motioning a little. "Not that you look bad, but you—I mean—"

Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Kurt presses his lips together, debating with himself on what to do when two girls come around the corner and pass next to them—they fall silent at the sight and stare at the guy, then Kurt, then back to the guy with wide eyes before rushing down and starting to whisper between themselves.

"…please," Kurt mutters.

_7:25am_

"I'm Blaine, by the way," the guy had said as he led him back towards his room and opened the door for him.

And for some reason, Kurt can't stop thinking about it.

He's washing himself as quickly and efficiently as he can, scrubbing the sweat and, god, _come, _off his skin, running his hands through his hair. He'd eyed Blaine's hair products for a moment before deciding he doesn't really trust anything that's not his own, and going without.

_Blaine, _though.

Try as he might, he still isn't able to think of an ulterior motive that this random guy might have had for offering a total stranger his shower and some clothes, and it's blowing his mind.

There had also been absolutely _no_ hint in Blaine's bedroom as to what his sexual orientation was. There were as many boys as there were girls in the pictures on his dresser, and in none of them was he kissing.

…does it make him a whore if he's thinking about kissing a stranger after having come out of _another_ stranger's bed thirty minutes ago?

Probably.

He sighs. Scrubs down his arms and turns the shower off. Blaine had laid out a towel for him on top of the toilet lid and he reaches out of it, drying off his torso before wrapping it around his hips.

He doesn't have any clothes inside the bathroom.

Blaine said he'd find some he swore would fit, but they're not in the bathroom. Which means he's going to have to come out into the bedroom half-naked, in front of this really attractive guy he'd just met.

With questionable sexuality.

Taking a deep breath, Kurt grips the towel around his hips and looks at himself in the mirror, reaching up to wipe some of the fog so he can look at himself.

Considerably better after the shower, he has to admit, even though there's still three hickeys dotting his collarbone and neck. His hair is no longer sweaty and rumpled, at least. He looks good enough.

Pressing his lips together, Kurt pulls the door open and steps out.

Into an empty room.

On Blaine's bed, laid out for him to see, there's a pair of jeans, a pressed, dark blue button-down, and a fresh pair of burgundy boxers. Looking around, Kurt walks over to the clothes and tries not to blush at the boxers.

He can't believe Blaine is letting him borrow _underwear_.

Next to the clothes is a torn piece of paper, hastily scrawled on in neat print:

'Kurt, I hope these fit! I have to run to class, so I'm trusting you not to ransack my dorm. Please don't steal my guitar. Or my bowties. I suppose you can take the other stuff, if you really need to. Return the clothes when you can, or call me, and I can go pick them up.

614-155-2823.

Sorry about making you fall on your butt.'

The surprised, shocked laugh that Kurt lets out breaks the silence in the room, and he shakes his head, smiling to himself as he places the note next to his phone and starts getting dressed.

Either Blaine is incredibly trusting and a little ridiculous, or extremely ingenious in slipping him his phone number.

_7:55am_

Kurt makes it to the building with five minutes to spare, and wonder written all over his face.

The giddiness at his entire morning is almost enough to forget about the ache in his ass, the hickeys covering his neck, and the fact that he's so hung-over it hurts to breathe.

Which turns out very easy to remember when he steps inside the fifth floor and catches a whiff of Isabelle's secretary's perfume and nearly barfs all over the expensive carpet.

"Good _morning_," Isabelle greets him when he steps through to her office, and hands him a brand new file to go through. "You look like you partied like a New Yorker last night. Was he cute?"

"Cute enough," Kurt replies easily, taking the file from her and smiling sheepishly. "Black? Splenda?"

She leans back on her chair and grins at him, while Kurt moves to go get her coffee. "You got it."

_8:22am_

**From: Rachel**

» Please tell me you didn't go to work in last night's clothes.

**To: Rachel**

» I didn't.

**From: Rachel**

» Well, you didn't stop by the loft either.

» Did he let you borrow some!?

» !?

**To: Rachel**

» … not exactly. I'll brief you over dinner.

_5:45pm_

Kurt slides the key into the door, pushing it open and steps inside, taking a whiff of the smells coming from their kitchenette. "Rachel?" he calls out, setting the bag with his dirty clothes aside for laundry later and pushes the sleeves of the shirt up to his elbows.

"I'm making omelets!" she calls back, and Kurt swats at the smoke, squinting through it.

"You sure you're not just burning eggs?" he mutters, and emerges into the kitchen, reaching for a glass of water and standing aside, waiting for her to turn to him.

She does, after a moment or so, and stops, looking up and down his body. "Those aren't yours," she points out, making a pointed face, eyebrows raised like when she's expecting juicy gossip.

"Nope," Kurt agrees, and a smirk curls his lips upwards at the corner. "They're _Blaine's_."

Rachel turns off the stove—thankfully, because the 'omelets' are a curious shade of brown by now—and ushers him towards the table, sitting down and giving him her undivided attention.

"Who's _Blaine?"_

_5:58pm_

"Are you kidding me?" Rachel squeals, as she slams the note down onto the table and flicks it back to Kurt. "You have to call him!"

Kurt lets out a soft laugh, taking the note back and smoothing it out, running his thumb over the phone number. "Should I, though? He said it was so he could pick them up—" he gives her a look. "I'd feel rude doing that."

There's a pause in which Rachel glances between the paper and Kurt's face, then a sly smile lights up her face and she looks at him mischievously.

"_Kurt,_" she drawls out, straightening up and cocking an eyebrow at him. "What happened to the guy you actually_slept_ with?" Her voice is light, airy, and a poor attempt at offhanded.

It doesn't prevent the blush from rising to his cheeks, though. "What about him?"

"Aha!" Rachel proclaims, reaching up for a high five that Kurt meets curiously. "So you _did_ sleep with him! I knew it. Oh, Santana totally owes me."

Gasping, Kurt splutters a little and drops his hands, feeling his face burn. "I can't believe you took bets on that! You're horrible."

Rachel's looking too smug for her own good. "She said you wouldn't have the balls. I said she underestimated how much you like blondes."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "You make it sound like it's a thing for me."

"Isn't it?"

"No."

"Is Blaine blonde?"

"_No."_

"Big ass, then?"

"I—Rachel, stop it!" Kurt hisses out, pushing his chair back to stand up, feeling his face burn hotly and goes to wash his glass in the sink. "He might not even be gay."

There's a snort behind him, and he raises his eyebrows as he dries his hands off. Rachel comes up and leans in to whisper into his ear. "He gave you his number. He's gay. So take that ass out for dinner."

"Rachel!"

_6:34pm_

Okay, he can do this.

Blaine might not even be gay. Lots of straight boys wore bowties and Capri pants and gelled their hair and had Vogue magazines on their bookshelf, right?

Not that Kurt had browsed through Blaine's bookshelf earlier. Because that would be an invasion of privacy. And very creepy. Nope.

…anyway. He can do this. Kurt looks down at the phone in his hand, the number already typed out, and hovers his thumb over the 'send' button of the text message, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, then presses down.

There.

**To: 614-155-2823**

» Hi, is this Blaine? It's Kurt, from the stairs.

Almost as quick as the message is sent, Kurt locks his phone and tosses it onto the other side of his bed, eyeing it warily and turning his head back towards his computer. He's not going to think about it. He's not going to wait for Blaine to text back. He's not going to be that guy.

It buzzes about twenty seconds later.

**From: 614-155-2823**

» Be honest, did you tidy up my room?

Kurt's face lights up with the screen, and a little giddiness, and he presses his lips together through a smile before typing out a reply, setting his laptop aside—fuck that, he _is _that guy.

**To: Blaine**

» I may have found a little spare time to do you a favor. The least I could do, really.

» Wouldn't have pegged you as a comic book lover.

**From: Blaine**

» Saved me a lot of time when I finished classes. Thank you.

» I can be many different kinds of lover.

» Sorry that was inappropriate.

He did _not_. Kurt grins, then, because that was flirting. He's getting flirted with by Handsome Capri-pants, and he loves it.

**To: Blaine**

» Maybe I like inappropriate.

He deletes that text.

**To: Blaine**

» Let me pay you back, for the shower and the clothes.

» Maybe with dinner? Are you free tonight?

**From: Blaine**

» Wow, fancy. I would love to, but I can't.

» I'm in line for the new X-Men comic.

» Don't judge.

The texts come consecutively, and Kurt forces himself not to be too disappointed. It's not like Blaine's blowing him off—he just had other plans already. It's fine. He'll just… return the clothes another time.

**To: Blaine**

» I'll try not to.

**From: Blaine**

» _click to receive image_

It's a picture of Blaine, with his mouth wide open, excitedly, giving him thumbs up—and next to him is another guy, their heads pressed together, mouth also open as if he were shouting.

_Now, _Kurt's stomach sinks.

The guy is blonde, lips full, and admittedly handsome. He doesn't even know Blaine, really. He doesn't have the right to be jealous. Not at all.

**To: Blaine**

» You look like you're having a good time.

» Well, don't let me keep you from… him?

**From: Blaine**

» Sam. He says hi. And also that you don't know the power of the dark side, but I'll spare you.

Blaine _would_ have a boyfriend. Someone as kind and charming as him wouldn't be single, of course, not in New York. How silly of him.

**To: Blaine**

» Haha, alright. I'll drop your clothes off tomorrow during my lunch break, is that okay?

**From: Blaine**

» You sure you don't want me to pick them up? I don't want to bother you.

**To: Blaine**

» Please. Not at all.

» I'll text you when I'm at the building.

**From: Blaine**

» Great. I'll see you!

He doesn't respond to that, scrolling through the conversation for a while before letting out a breath through his lips and exiting to home screen.

It doesn't matter.

Blaine's just a good-looking guy that he met; there'll be plenty more. He was charitable and kind and that was that. Clearly, he has someone who actually shares interests with him.

_7:25pm_

Kurt's managed to half-convince himself that he had deluded himself into thinking Blaine's actually better than he is by the time Rachel comes to say goodbye before she leaves on her date.

He lies and says he hasn't called or texted Blaine yet.

Then she leaves and there's silence.

And Kurt _swears_ it's got nothing to do with Blaine when he holds the phone up to his ear five minutes later, and stands up from his bed to go look himself over in the mirror.

"Andy? Hi, it's Kurt! Sorry I ran out this morning, my boss called in early about an emergency. What are you doing tonight?"

**SATURDAY, 26th**

_9:46am_

Of course he'd gone back to Andy's dorm. At least he'd planned ahead this time, he thinks groggily as he rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling and tries not to be too disgusted at himself.

At the fact that he'd literally given Andy a _booty call_ last night.

They'd talked, though, and Andy had explained that he didn't really do relationships—Kurt had said he was totally fine with that, which of course he isn't, but whatever—and then they'd gotten busy.

He tries not to feel like a whore, and fails.

Miserably.

_10:01am_

"I'll walk you out," Andy calls back into the bathroom, where Kurt's brushing his teeth with some toothpaste on his finger. "I have to do laundry anyway."

He can hear the door opening while he spits and rinses out his mouth, and Andy starts talking to someone outside.

It's fine this time, though, because he looks presentable and he'd been careful not to come anywhere near his skin last night, and he's promised himself that he doesn't care if people know he had sex last night.

But then he comes out of the room, shutting the door behind him and coming up face-first with none other than_Blaine._ "Oh," he says, smartly, of course.

Blaine's eyebrows shoot up; his eyes widen, and he looks back at Andy before turning to him. "K-Kurt!" he stutters out, looking honestly surprised. "I didn't expect—"

Kurt resists the urge to spit back 'well, you had other plans' because that would be a very, very stupid idea, and instead he raises his eyebrows back.

"Um… you two know each other?" Andy asks, looking back and forth between them.

"No, we just—"

"Yes, we met at—"

They both stop. Look at each other. Blaine ducks his face and laughs, softly, before shaking his head. "You're right, we don't really know each other," he says quietly.

"Okay, well… I'm gonna go," Andy says slowly, shrugging and turning to Kurt. "Coming?"

Kurt's face feels very hot, and he nods quickly, looking up at Blaine. "I hope you had fun with your boyfriend last night?" he quips, lightly, attempting to make it an offhand comment.

The look of confusion that Blaine gives him throws him off until Blaine seems to understand something, and he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"If you're talking about Sam, he's taken," he returns, looking at Kurt pointedly. "By a _girl._ But yes, I did. Seems like you did, too. I'll… see you when I see you."

He says all this like it's _nothing_ and then turns and walks into his room, shutting the door behind him and leaving Kurt standing there.

And feeling like a complete and utter _idiot._

_11:30am_

It takes him about an hour to work up the courage, but he finally sends off the text.

**To: Blaine**

» I freaked, I'm sorry.

» I guess I was kind of embarrassed.

There: honesty.

**From: Blaine**

» About what?

**To: Blaine**

» About the fact that this is twice you've seen me coming out of Andy's room?

**From: Blaine**

» Oh, wow, I meant sorry about what

» You didn't do anything, it's fine

» And that's fine too I mean

» Do what you must, you know?

» Who am I to judge?

Well, then. Kurt stares at his phone and the texts, watching Blaine type and then stop, and then type again and then stop, until it stops altogether and he reads over the last few texts repeatedly.

It's almost like Blaine really doesn't care at all, and that bothers him more than he would like to admit.

**To: Blaine**

» Right, of course.

» Anyway. I um, still have your clothes.

**From: Blaine**

» You want me to pick them up?

**To: Blaine**

» No no I said I'd take them

» Are you still in your room?

**From: Blaine**

» Yes

» You can come if you want

**To: Blaine**

» Okay, give me like 20 min

**From: Blaine**

» Sure

_11:46am_

Kurt had been ready in ten minutes, actually, and he'd taken the subway fairly quickly before arriving at the college campus and towards the building where Blaine lived.

He's going up the stairs and ignoring the looks he'd been getting, telling himself over and over that he's making it up in his head because he's paranoid, when he gets another text from Blaine.

**From: Blaine**

» If you're anywhere near my dorm, I think I should warn you that there's a rumor that we're fucking.

The phone nearly slips from his hand and crashes down three flights of stairs.

Kurt looks up, then, _really_ paranoid, and presses himself into a corner, whipping his phone up and typing out a reply.

**To: Blaine**

» WHAT?

**From: Blaine**

» Wow, ouch, am I that undesirable?

» Kidding

» I have no idea

**To: Blaine**

» I'm coming up the stairs right now

He rushes, a little, but making sure not to crash into anybody as he reaches the top floor and Blaine's there, at his door, and waves him inside with a flourish before closing the door behind them.

"Welcome back."

Kurt turns to him with a pointed look. "What do you mean, there's a rumor that we're—" He motions.

Blaine cocks an eyebrow. "Really? You can't say it?" He's smirking and it's totally unfair.

"_Fucking."_

"Way to prove a point," Blaine says easily, slumping back onto his bed and motioning for Kurt to do the same. He stays where he is, the bag holding Blaine's clothes, washed and neatly folded, still in his hand. "Alright, don't."

"How is it that people think _we're_ sleeping together and not Andy?" Kurt asks, watching Blaine shrug.

"I think it might've been Monica and Lindsey on the stairs," he tells him thoughtfully, grabbing a baseball from his bedside table and starting to toss it up onto the air, catching it before it falls. "Andy fucking some stranger is old news. Blaine fucking some stranger is unheard of."

There's silence, for a moment, and Kurt's pretty sure he's never been so indirectly insulted in his _life._

Then Blaine gasps and sits up, looking horrified. "Oh my god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"It's fine," Kurt mutters, and he knows his face is bright red and he doesn't want it to be and yes, great it's been confirmed that Andy's a slut and Blaine basically just called him his weekend boy toy.

"No, it's not, I wasn't thinking," Blaine keeps saying, dropping the ball and rushing over to reach over for Kurt's shoulder. "I wasn't saying that you're—god, I'm stupid. Kurt, I—"

He can't do this.

"No," he pulls back. "Blaine, it's okay. Alright?" He looks up at him. "It's my fault. I'm the one who fucked him. Twice. Okay? I was basically… looking to be called… _that."_

"But you're not—"

"Really?" Kurt raises an eyebrow at him, deciding that playing indifferent is the best thing to do right now if he doesn't want to give into the burning behind his eyes. "You're going to pretend to know me? I could be an actual whore for all you know, Blaine."

"How many people have you slept with?"

"I—what?" Kurt splutters, still blushing, and drops the bag onto a chair nearby, looking around. "Christ, you can't just ask that—"

"Tell me," Blaine insists, looking at him with those intense golden eyes that make Kurt's stomach tighten, and he rolls his eyes.

"Two."

"Two," Blaine repeats, nodding. "And you're what, twenty?"

Where is he going with this? "No. Nineteen."

Blaine nods again and flexes his hands a little, motioning. "There you have it. Now I know for sure that you're not a whore."

Kurt doesn't say anything for a while. He's not sure he's buying this…whatever Blaine's doing, and he still feels a little cheap all the same.

"Look, Kurt," Blaine says quietly, again, turning to him and reaches out a hand. "You're right. I don't… know much about you. But I'm sorry. That was stupid of me to say, and I didn't mean to insult you in any way. Please forgive me?"

How can he say no to that face?

"I—yes, it's fine," Kurt sighs, eyeing Blaine's hand for a while before dropping his own onto it and squeezing back when Blaine does.

"Good. Now how about lunch instead of that dinner?"

_1:23pm_

He learns that Blaine is studying music, and that he can play guitar—though he guessed that from the one he'd seen in his room—and he'd moved out from Ohio last year as well.

He learns that Sam is his best friend, and that he's dating a girl called Quinn, and gets confirmation that Blaine _is_actually gay when he tells him about his ex-boyfriend.

He tells Blaine about starting his internship at last year and how he got a proper job in June, about Isabelle and her crazy traditions, and about Rachel and how neurotic she is and how hard it was to get used to sharing an apartment with her.

He tells him, eventually, about how he met Andy, about _his _ex-boyfriend, Adam, and jokes about how Rachel says he has a thing for blondes, then smiles to himself secretly when Blaine's face falls, almost imperceptibly, and adds that it's not true, he just loves a good ass, and preens when it causes Blaine to laugh.

He pays for their meals, and refuses to let Blaine look at the check, and jokes about how he can pay on the next date.

Notices how Blaine smiles and says "Okay" instead of correcting his word choice.

_1:40pm_

They're walking towards Blaine's dorm building again, because he has some studying to get done, and discussing the incoming Academy Awards.

"Well, obviously _Les Mis_ has to win," Kurt points out, as if it's ridiculous to think otherwise, and stares at Blaine when he looks thoughtful. "If you tell me you'd rather see Lincoln win, I'm going to have to rethink our acquaintance."

"Ugh, no," Blaine says quickly, shaking his head and holding his hands up in surrender. "Not Lincoln, but Argo was_fantastic…_"

Kurt keeps staring, even as they reach the door. "It's _Les Mis_," he stresses, like Blaine's not quite getting the point. Blaine laughs and rolls his eyes. "I see that there's no point arguing with you on this."

"No."

"Have you seen Argo, though?"

"No. You're not going to convince me—"

"Let me take you to see it," Blaine interrupts him, quickly, almost too quickly for Kurt to hear. But he does hear, and his stomach twists a little. "And—prove my point."

Kurt quirks an eyebrow at him and pretends to think about it, but he's smiling. "Only if you re-watch _Les Mis_ with me and admit defeat."

"I'm fine with that," Blaine says, smiling back, and neither says anything for a moment before Blaine clears his throat and nods towards the building, letting out a breath. "I'll text you sometime this week, then."

Nodding, Kurt looks around, spotting a guy watching them curiously on a bench nearby before turning back to Blaine with a quiet laugh. "Yeah," he agrees easily, and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat. "And for the record, I think I'd rather have people thinking I'm fucking you, than Andy."

Blaine seems to choke a little, for a moment, before he's laughing as well, and rubs at the back of his neck as he waves Kurt goodbye and steps inside his dorm building, the door swinging shut behind him.

**WEDNESDAY, 6****th**

_6:00pm_

It's a week and a half later that they both manage to find a free afternoon that coincides to go to the movies.

Blaine had taken on more classes this semester than he realized he could handle, and was doing night courses as well, so he would earn enough credits to be able to drop a few come March, and Kurt's work had kept him busy, also, with Isabelle taking on several new projects and handing half of them to Kurt so he could take care of them.

They'd met for lunch twice, though, and managed to spare a few minutes to grab some coffee together, too.

It's strange for Kurt every time he thinks about it, but he's grown closer to Blaine in two weeks than he has with many people he's known for over a year. And he can't find that he has a single problem with it.

Blaine knew, somehow, a tiny theater near the Upper West Side where they showed movies for a longer period of time, that was still showing Argo, and they agreed to meet at Blaine's dorm, which was closer, so they could walk there.

Kurt flicks a long envelope over to Blaine's hands when he comes out of his dorm, looking ridiculously cute in a thick scarf and a beanie that covers his ears, surprised as he takes it. "What's this?"

"An invitation," Kurt returns, starting to walk next to him towards the theatre. "There's a Vogue cocktail and presentation on Saturday evening for employees—which includes models—and since you appreciate good fashion like I do, unlike my roommate, I thought you might want to be my plus one."

There's a small smile on Blaine's face as he glances over at him. "I would definitely want that," he agrees. "Thanks."

It's cold. Freezing, actually, and there's a light flurry of snow that's been happening all day. And still, Kurt feels incredibly warm.

_9:12pm_

"Your stubbornness could literally fill up this room right now."

Kurt presses his lips together and doesn't say anything.

"Kurt."

Nope.

"You," Blaine says, and out of the corner of his eye, Kurt can see him smiling teasingly at him. "Are unbelievable."

He pops another French fry into his mouth and chews around it, pointedly looking outside the window.

Blaine starts to laugh, almost _giggles_, as he sits there and watches him. "You're like a five year old who's realized he actually liked his first day of school."

Kurt ignores him, still, and eats another fry. He watches as Blaine rolls his eyes and raises his hands in surrender—something he's noticed he tends to do a lot. "Alright, I'll drop it," he sighs. "But just so you know…"

And then Kurt _has_ to look up, because Blaine's leaned in right in front of his face, and their foreheads are brushing, and he has to blink, quickly, to focus on the pair of eyes _right there_—"I told you so," Blaine whispers, grins, and dips in a little closer to bite off the other end of the French fry hanging from between Kurt's teeth.

Then leans back into his chair and Kurt lets out a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Fuck, Blaine can't just _do_ things like that. His face is warm, fingers tingly, and he licks his lips after he swallows the rest of the fry.

Blaine's still smiling, having taken a fry of his own and is swirling it around in ketchup, not looking at him, and _god_, Kurt wants to kiss him.

_9:27pm_

"I have to warn you, Rachel might be here, and she's—most likely going to be weird," Kurt calls over his shoulder to Blaine as he pushes the door to their loft open, holding it for him and tugging it back into place.

There's silence inside, though, and no music playing as Kurt shrugs off his coat and hangs it up. "Rachel?" he calls out.

No answer.

"Never mind, she's not here," he says breathily, as if it doesn't matter. As if his heart hadn't just started racing at the thought that he's alone with Blaine in his apartment.

He hasn't been alone with Blaine in a room since that first day before they had lunch.

"Wow," Blaine whistles lowly, having taken off his own coat and scarf and is looking around. "You guys really did some good work with the space here."

Kurt preens. "_Merci_."

"Is that—you guys have a karaoke machine?" Blaine's voice comes from the faux-living room and Kurt wrinkles his nose a little.

"Maybe?"

Blaine lets out a happy laugh, shaking his head as he walks over to it. "This is amazing. We'll have to duet some day." He looks over at Kurt with a waggle of his eyebrows, and Kurt's stomach flips happily again.

"Do you um, want something to drink?" he asks instead, motioning towards the fridge.

"No, I'm okay, thanks," Blaine shakes his head, still looking around with interest. "So, do I get a tour, or?"

_9:34pm_

He does get a tour, of course.

Kurt shows him the way they arranged the spaces to work as different areas for each of them, and the sliding partitions for their rooms, and explained the arrangement of the kitchen versus the bathroom, and where they got each piece from, because _everything_ has a story in their apartment, and subconsciously, maybe not so subconsciously, saves his room for last.

"And this is where the magic happens," he teases, pushing back the partition to his room and motioning inside. Blaine looks over at him with a small smile before moving in and looking around.

"It's very…you," he finally decides, turning towards his dresser where there's a picture of him and Rachel, and him and Finn, and Rachel and him and Santana, when she'd moved to New York, and he watches them all carefully. "How is it that you manage to look so good in every picture taken of you?" Blaine mumbles.

Kurt's not sure if he's meant to have heard or not, but it still makes a rush of heat flood up his spine and face and neck.

He takes a step forward.

Blaine straightens up—his phone buzzes—he pulls it out of his jeans and frowns at the screen, groaning. "Great. Sam's wasted."

Kurt's stomach drops. "On a Wednesday night?" he asks, and pretends he doesn't sound as bitter as he does.

"Right?" Blaine sighs, shaking his head. "I should get going…"

"Yeah, of course," Kurt agrees easily, ignoring the way his heart is squeezing at him, still beating a little too fast, and follows Blaine out towards the door again. He pushes the door open as Blaine slides into his coat, and bites his lip before getting his scarf.

"Here, let me." Grabbing the two ends of the red scarf, he reaches up to fold it around the back of Blaine's neck, stepping up in front of him and focusing on the wool as he folds it into something pleasing, maybe a tad slower than necessary.

Maybe because if he lifts his face, Blaine is only half a breath away, and watching him quietly.

So he does lift his face, once he's done, and tucks the scarf into his coat, patting it gently. "There."

His voice is breathy even to his own ears, and he can't quite look away from Blaine's mouth, and his lips, and the way his tongue is running over his top lip, then bottom lip, and they're moving, shaping around a word—_his name—_"Kurt," Blaine whispers—

"Kurt?"

He jumps back, startled, and almost knocks into the coat hanger as he turns to face Rachel at the doorway. "I—hi."

She steps inside, taking off her own coat and looking at Blaine suspiciously before her face dawns in realization. "You must be Blaine," she chirps enthusiastically, reaching out with her hand to shake his, smiling widely. "I'm Kurt's best friend and roommate, Rachel Berry. You must have heard of me."

"I—I have yes," Blaine says, seemingly flustered, and shakes her hand before dropping it, glancing at Kurt quickly and looking back to her. "But I was just leaving, actually, I—have to go um, help out a friend."

"Oh, so soon?" Rachel asks, pouting and turning to Kurt, whose face he can still feel flaming red, and doesn't say anything.

His heart is still racing a hundred miles an hour.

Blaine moves around Rachel towards the door, leaning a hand on it and turning to Kurt, clearing his throat. "I'll see you," he says, giving him a smile. "Saturday."

"Saturday," Kurt repeats, quietly, and can't even bring himself to properly smile back before Blaine's gone, and Rachel's sliding the door shut again.

"Why do I have the feeling that I interrupted something?" Rachel asks after a moment, eyeing him curiously.

Kurt looks up at her. Blinks. Takes a deep breath and smiles, shaking his head. "No, of course not. "

_9:50pm_

**From: Blaine**

» Ben Affleck should have been nominated for Best Directing.

» Admit it.

**To: Blaine**

» Maybe.

**From: Blaine**

» Say it.

**To: Blaine**

» Say what?

**From: Blaine**

» 'You're right, Blaine. You have awesome taste in movies and I should listen to you more often.'

**To: Blaine**

» Talk about something filling up the room.

» Your ego competes with my stubbornness.

**From: Blaine**

» You looked really nice tonight.

Kurt reads over the text. Over, and over again, until his eyes hurt from the screen brightness, and he sets his phone aside, allowing himself a moment to squeal internally and kick his feet at his covers before flipping onto his stomach and biting his lip, thinking of a proper reply for that.

His phone buzzes again before he can.

**From: Blaine**

» I meant mice.

» No I didn't.

**To: Blaine**

» You're a dork.

**From: Blaine**

» But you like me anyway?

**To: Blaine**

» Maybe.

**From: Blaine**

» Just like you liked Argo.

**To: Blaine**

» Ar-go to sleep.

**From: Blaine**

» Ar-go with me.

» I meant come.

» What.

» Goodnight!

Snorting into the back of his hand, Kurt shakes his head and types out another quick 'night' before turning his phone off and curling into the covers. He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling.

There's still a silly smile on his face, and his stomach is flipping eagerly, and he can't stop_ thinking_ about him.

**SATURDAY 9****th**

_4:12pm_

**From: Blaine**

» I just realized the invitation says 'formal'.

» We're talking suit, right?

**To: Blaine**

» That's what I'm going with!

**From: Blaine**

» Exciting. I haven't worn a suit in ages.

» Since prom.

**To: Blaine**

» Cute.

**From: Blaine**

» Me or prom?

**To: Blaine**

» Both.

» You have the address, right?

**From: Blaine**

» It's on the invite

**To: Blaine**

» I'll see you there, then

**From: Blaine**

» I'll be the one in the fluorescent pink tux with a yellow bowtie.

**To: Blaine**

» …what?

**From: Blaine**

» (;

**To: Blaine**

» Oh. Ha ha you're funny.

**From: Blaine**

» I try. See you, handsome.

Handsome. _Handsome. _Really. Kurt bites his lip and tries not to flip out over one little word. And fails, of course. He glances at the time on his phone and purses his lips. He has a little less than three hours to make himself _handsome_.

_7:51pm_

Kurt's been there since seven sharp, as Isabelle had asked him to be, and has had three glasses of champagne thrust into his hand by various people in the time that he's been there.

It's probably a good thing that he's not a lightweight.

He's also surrounded by actual models. Tall, lithe men of varying ages, and all of them extremely good-looking. He's been hit on twice already, and it's making him a little dizzy.

It's such a stark contrast to life back in Lima, when no guy dared to look his way, and even though he's already had a year to get used to the openness of New York, it still gets to him sometimes.

Or maybe he's just particularly jumpy tonight because Blaine's coming sometime soon. He got a text saying 'on my way, hope you're already there or this is going to be real awkward' ten minutes ago, and he'd been sparing glances at the door every two seconds since then.

_7:55pm_

"Kurt, isn't that your boy?" Isabelle nudges him on the ribs, and Kurt whips his face around towards the door, where,_oh god, _indeed. "Yes," he can hear himself breathe out, and Isabelle smiles at him knowingly before pushing at him a little.

"Go charm him, sweetie."

Blaine looks… _well._

His hair is gelled back, as usual, a little more so, tonight, than the way he styles his curls on everyday basis, and he looks like he's stepped out of a 50s movie right alongside Marlon Brando and Cary Grant.

Blaine's suit is plain black, with a white shirt underneath, and a black bowtie, resting neatly at his collar. He's clean-shaven, and looking around with bright eyes; Kurt's breath is caught in his throat.

He feels like he can't breathe, let alone _move._

Then Blaine looks his way, and their eyes meet. It's a moment before they smile, a moment in which he's sure there's no music, and nobody else, and it's every cheesy, classic movie he's ever seen come to life, and it's just Blaine and him.

And then someone nearly knocks him over with a tray, and it's back to reality.

"Kurt," Blaine calls out, approaching him with a bright smile—he's _dashing_. He's right in front of him, and reaches out, as if to hug him, before dropping his hand to his elbow at the last minute and turning his face to give him a kiss on the cheek instead. "Hi."

Kurt pulls back, still breathless, and feels his cheeks pink. "So do you," he rushes out, licking his lips and blinks a little to see Blaine looking at him strangely.

"What?"

Oh, shit.

"I—I mean, hi," he blurts out, laughing nervously. "Sorry, I was—um—you made it."

Blaine looks at him curiously for a moment before letting it go and nods. "Without getting lost," he adds, grinning and makes a cute 'ooh' noise when a waiter offers him a flute of champagne, taking it. "So, how's the evening so far? Checking out the attractive models?"

As _if_, Kurt's brain supplies, as he rolls his eyes and nudges Blaine's shoulder with his own. "See anything _you_ like?" he teases him, nodding towards the group of males on the other side of the appetizers table.

"Oh, yeah," Blaine nods with raised eyebrows, looking ahead with him and humming appreciatively. "You'd think they're not as good-looking as they are after Photoshop, but they are. The abs are real."

Kurt snorts a little into his champagne before taking another sip. "You're ridiculous." He lowers his glass and tears his eyes off one of the men to look at Blaine, and finds him looking back.

He raises his eyebrows.

Blaine smiles, ducks his face and shakes his head.

Kurt's stomach flips again.

_9:00pm_

They're both a little more than buzzed by the time nine rolls around and the presentations are over, and everybody has clapped politely and continued with their socializing.

Some people have started leaving already, and Isabelle has been hanging with one of the models at her arm for most of the night, so she winks as she passes by Kurt and Blaine towards the door.

"Someone's getting _laid_ toniiight," Blaine mumbles into Kurt's ear, snickering a little, and Kurt laughs as well, swatting at his arm.

He turns to him, leaning in conspiratorially. "Y'know who else is probably getting laid tonight?" he whispers.

Blaine quirks an eyebrow and Kurt stares at him for a moment before whispering, "Andy."

They both burst out into a fit of giggles.

_9:14pm_

"M'yes, please, Columbia University," Blaine states, as well as he can manage, to the cab driver, before he sinks back into the seat next to Kurt, tipping his head back and humming. "Love this song," he mutters.

Kurt strains to listen over the sound of New York traffic, and the vocal runs behind Adele's voice makes the song known to him. He hums in agreement. "It's the best. In epic proportions. Adele is a goddess."

"Preach," Blaine says, opening his eyes and turning to face him again, nodding seriously. There's a break in the music as they stare at each other.

"RUMOUR HAS IT!"

They both shout it out at the same time, and start laughing again; Kurt doubles over, sitting up straight on the seat and holding onto the back of the front passenger seat as he giggles.

_9:23pm_

Blaine opens the door to his dorm for them, holds it for Kurt and follows, leaning back against it. "I think I'm a little drunk," he proclaims after a moment.

Kurt laughs, turning to him and nods, sitting back on the edge of his bed. "It's the champagne, it's all bubbly—it makes _us_ bubbly," he explains, and watches as Blaine comes over.

"And sleepy?" he asks, sitting down next to Kurt on the bed and dropping his head sideways onto his shoulder, snuffling a little in a way that's entirely adorable. "B'cause I'm sleepy."

Now that Blaine mentions it, he does feel tired, heavy, like his limbs won't cooperate if he decides to move them, and Kurt sighs at the thought of having to go home. Then wonders why he _hadn't._

"I should go home," he mutters, realizing it, and frowns lightly.

Blaine blinks up at him, picking his head up from his shoulder to frown back. "No, stay," he whines, reaching over to press down on Kurt's thigh, as if that's going to make him stay still.

"Where?" Kurt mumbles, turning back to him, watching his face, and knowing full well _where_, but he asks anyway.

"Right here," Blaine insists, reaching over him to pat the bed. "We can fit. We can cuddle and we can fit. It'll be awesome, trust me."

He's slurring just a little, and Kurt can't really gather the will to stand up and call a _cab_ and Blaine's bed looks _really_comfortable and he's looking at him with _those eyes. _He finds himself agreeing with little fight, and kicks off his shoes before flopping onto his back.

Even through the slight dizziness caused by the (maybe four, he's not sure) glasses of champagne he'd had, he's still hyper-aware of Blaine next to him, kicking off his own shoes and suit and all of a sudden he's just in his underwear, crawling onto the bed next to him.

It's a _twin_ bed.

Kurt scoots to one side and turns his head to look at him. Blaine scrunches up his nose and reaches up with a finger to poke at Kurt's shoulder. "You're going to wrinkle your suit," he points out quietly.

For some reason, it makes Kurt giggle, and he sits up, swinging his legs off as he takes his coat off. "You just want to get me naked," he teases lightly, carefree and with little scruples as he even throws in a wink over his shoulder.

Blaine hums, noncommittally, and Kurt decides to file that away to peruse later.

Once he's rid of everything but his undershirt and boxers, he turns back to the bed and lies down next to Blaine.

They're facing each other, not saying anything, and Kurt swears his heart is beating loud enough that Blaine should be able to hear it even from there.

He folds his knees; lets it bump against Blaine's where he's got them folded too, on their sides, and curls his arms up against his chest, blinking up at him.

Blaine smiles.

Kurt's stomach flops a little, and he smiles back, nervously.

Then Blaine starts laughing to himself quietly for a moment before grinning up at him sleepily. "Is my bed comfier than Andy's?" he whispers.

Kurt reaches over and swats at his shoulder, then rolls onto his back. "Can't tell," he decides to shoot back, closing his eyes. "We haven't _really_ tested out the mattress yet."

Which maybe he wouldn't have said if he'd been entirely sober, but there it is.

And it's got Blaine giggling again, crawling over until his chin is propped up on Kurt's shoulder, and he presses a kiss to the bit of skin next to his undershirt.

"G'night, Kurt."

"Night, Blaine."

**SUNDAY 10****th**

_10:13am_

BANG, BANG, BANG. "_Blaine! Dude, open the door!"_

Kurt jerks awake at the noise, rubbing at his face and blinking blearily at his surroundings. "Wuzzgoingon," he mumbles, frowning at the sunlight streaming in from a window to his left.

"Sam, fuck _off_," Blaine groans, voice muffled into the pillow, next to him, and Kurt's stomach greets him awake with a jolt at the reminder that he's in Blaine's bed.

"_It's basically noon. You promised we could go to the gym in the morning. It's barely morning anymore. Open uuuuup." _BANG, BANG.

"Oh my god, Blaine, please open the door," Kurt moans, burying his face back into the mattress. "I'm going to kill him and I don't even know him."

BANG, BANG.

"I'M COMING," Blaine yells, his voice hoarse from sleep, and it shouldn't sound as sexy as it does, Kurt thinks. He rolls out of the bed and walks over to the door, yanking it open.

Kurt turns his face towards it and sees the blonde guy from the pictures standing there in gym shorts and watches as he tosses a towel at Blaine's head.

"Why are you sleeping in? You never sleep in on Sundays, and you look like shit, dude, did you—_oh._"

Blaine's still standing by the door, holding it open as he yawns, widely, probably not aware of what's actually going on.

Sam's standing next to him, staring at Kurt appraisingly and Kurt raises his hand in a half-hearted wave. "Hi," he mumbles.

"Greetings," Sam replies, and smiles, turning to Blaine and reaching up to squeeze his shoulder. "In that case. I will go to the gym by myself and—_you_ can go. Whenever you're uh—ready."

Blaine hums and nods again, saying "kay" and shutting the door behind Sam as he leaves, then comes back to the bed and flops onto his stomach with another groan. "So tired."

"_Was that a guy in Blaine's bed or am I seeing things?"_

Kurt freezes at the sound of a girl's voice outside the door, and opens his eyes, listening.

"_Oh, that's just Kurt."_

_"Who's Kurt? Blaine has a boyfriend?"_

_"Uh, no. Ask him, I have to go."_

Then there's silence. For a _while. _"…Blaine?" Kurt asks sheepishly. He gets no reply, and he turns his head to the other side to find him fast asleep again.

He hadn't been back at Blaine's dorm since that time that they'd met. Surely if he walked out of Blaine's _bed_, people would recognize him? Oh, god, what if it's one of the girls from the stairs—he needs to go before more people wake up and start crowding the halls.

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Kurt crawls off the bed and looks around for his clothes. Then realizes he only has his suit, which is indeed, wrinkled, and there is no way that he's doing the walk of shame _again_, from another guy's dorm.

Glancing over at Blaine's sleeping form, he presses his lips together for a moment before moving to his friend's closet and pulling out the pair of jeans that fit him and one of Blaine's hoodies—maybe if he wears the Columbia one, he'll fit in more—and dresses quickly.

Once he looks presentable and hopefully not like he did something he didn't actually _do_ this time (unfortunately, his brain supplies), Kurt goes back to the bed and reaches up to slide a palm up Blaine's bare back, then squeezes his shoulder.

Blaine mumbles something.

"Blaine," Kurt whispers, squeezing his shoulder again. "Blaine, I'm gonna go, okay?"

"Mkay," Blaine agrees quietly, smiling, eyes still closed, and Kurt nods. He'll text him later, he figures.

Gathering his suit up, he slides it into one of Blaine's spare duffel bags, and slides it over his shoulder before stepping outside the dorm.

To find three people staring at them.

One of them being none other than Andrew.

"So the rumors are true," Andy chuckles, walking over and holding a hand up to high five him. Kurt, face flushed dark, meets the hand and lets out a nervous laugh. "You _are_ fucking Blaine Anderson."

"I—no," Kurt rushes out, eyes wide. "No, we're just—we're just friends."

Andy smiles, shaking his head, and glances at the two other girls hanging 'casually' down the hall, but listening in on the conversation. "Look, Kurt, I get it—Blaine doesn't want a 'reputation' or anything, but it's fine. You landed yourself a hot shot who has a virginal rep around here. Quite a score."

Okay, now Andy's just pissing him off. Kurt narrows his eyes and clenches his fists a little around the strap of the bag. "That's not what it's like, Andy," he says quietly.

"Don't tell me that _you _have a problem with fucking around, now."

Kurt feels his face get hot again, and he opens his mouth, slightly affronted. "I don't _fuck around_, okay? That was—once."

Andy's raising his eyebrows at him. "Really? Because you didn't seem to have any trouble with doing it _twice_."

"I can't believe you're actually standing there publicizing my private life-!"

"Hey, leave him alone."

Kurt whips his head around to find Blaine there, still in nothing but his briefs, but frowning at Andy. Andy turns his face to raise his eyebrows at Blaine instead, looking pointedly up and down his body. "I'm just stating how it looks, boys," he mutters.

Blaine keeps staring at him, his jaw clenched in a way Kurt hasn't really seen it before, and he can't quite look away. "Thank you for that, but we don't need your commentary. Now if you'll please continue with your life and let us live ours, that'd be awesome."

Snorting, Andy rolls his eyes at them and grins. "You two have fun," he calls back as he continues down the hall. The two girls standing there—who are not the stair girls, Kurt notes—glance at Blaine before quickly moving away as well, one of them even raising a phone to her ear and pretending to be in mid-conversation.

Leaving them alone in the hallway.

"What an ass," Kurt breathes out in wonder, looking after Andy once he's peeled his eyes off Blaine's jawline.

"Yeah, that's Andrew when he's not getting what he wants," Blaine mutters, moving back into his room. His hair is messy all over, curls pointing in every direction, and he looks like a wicked combination of sexy and adorable at the same time. "Sorry about him."

Kurt widens his eyes. "It's not even remotely your fault," he chuckles dryly. "I—actually, thank you for, you know… defending me."

Blaine waves him off a little, and moves into his bathroom to wash his face.

Maybe Kurt stares a little at the muscles of his back when he bends over. "No, really," he insists, lightly, and smiles at Blaine through the mirror. "It was very white knight-ish of you." He bats his eyelashes dramatically. Blaine smiles.

"You're _welcome,_" he says, then, turning back to Kurt and letting out a breath. "So, you're going?"

"Yeah," Kurt nods, licking his lips and glancing back to the hallway. "I should get started on some work, and you need to meet your best friend at the gym and explain to him that it's not what it looks like."

"A line if there ever was any," Blaine smiles, sitting back on the edge of his bed. "We still have to watch _Les Mis_together. Call me if you take a break? "

Kurt smiles back. "Always."

**FRIDAY 15****th**

_9:21pm_

They go to watch _Les Mis_, finally, on Friday, and get the best seats in the relatively empty theater, since it's a late showing. Even though they've both already seen it, Kurt's still buzzing with excitement at the thought of experiencing it again with Blaine.

And because he has to prove a point, of course.

_11:18pm_

They're both sobbing.

Kurt had started sometime around 'I Dreamed A Dream', dabbing at his eyes with the tissue he'd had the foresight to bring. By the time the revolution started, Blaine had joined him in sniffing quietly, trading the box of popcorn back and forth with the Kleenex.

They both quietly sing along to the finale, tears streaming down their cheeks, the popcorn long finished between their seats, and clutching each other's hands—Kurt isn't quite sure when _that_ happened.

Once the movie's over, they have to take a moment to cool down, and Kurt's still whining about how it's painful every time, as they head towards Central Park, which is near Blaine's dorm, and start walking down a path.

"You're right," Blaine sniffs quietly after a moment, and wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Argo is fantastic but _Les Mis_ is a rollercoaster of _feelings._"

"I know I'm right," Kurt sobs.

Blaine chuckles wetly and shakes his head. "Why is Eddie Redmayne so _attractive?_" he whines a little, turning to look at Kurt. His eyes are a little puffy, and he looks like an actual puppy.

"Aaron Tveit," Kurt sighs.

"_Hugh Jackman._"

Kurt groans. "_Hugh Jackman."_ Blaine starts to laugh, and Kurt joins in, smiling at their silliness, and knocks his shoulder into Blaine's as they continue walking down the path.

The park is almost empty, with the occasional jogger in the distance, and it's almost midnight, and they should really be heading back, but that's Blaine's hand slipping into his between them, and Kurt suddenly doesn't want to be anywhere but here.

It's still lingering winter, and though it isn't snowing anymore, it's cold, and their breaths fog up in front of their faces.

Blaine's hand is warm in his, firm and soft at the same time, keeping him grounded when he feels like he's floating up and getting lost in the stars above them.

And it's late, and there's still a smile on his face, and he feels young and _free_ and he shifts his fingers to twine them between Blaine's, folding them up and brushing the back of his hand with his fingertips.

They're still walking, but he's not focusing on what direction they're taking anymore; just the steady pace of their shoes on the gravel, and the rapid beating of his heart, and the way Blaine's profile looks under the moonlight.

_Breathtaking._

Kurt's staring; he knows he is, but he can't make himself stop. Not when Blaine is so handsome, and his hand feels so right in his…

"In my life," Kurt whispers, stopping. Blaine turns around, looking at him curiously, still holding onto his hand, and Kurt licks his lips and looks up at him, meeting his eye.

He tilts his head. "_There's been no one like him anywhere, anywhere where he is_," he sings, quietly, his voice trembling a little. Though if it's because of the cold, or the nerves, he's not sure.

Blaine's lips curve up into a smile, and he tilts his head as well, watching him, his eyes shining a little with amusement and Kurt takes a breath; lets it out.

"_If he asked…" _He stops singing."I'd be his."

It's fascinating, the way he can see the play of thoughts and emotions in Blaine's eyes, whatever it is he does, hazel and green and always, always bright and gorgeous.

It seems to take a moment to dawn on him, and the curve of his lips falls, for a moment, from amusement, and then his lips part as he smiles, toothily, and lets out a soft breath. "Kurt…"

A thousand butterflies, fluttering all over his stomach, chest, and his heart feels like it's going to burst with how fast it's racing. He licks his lips and smiles back at Blaine, fingers flexing against his hand.

"Kurt," Blaine whispers again, quietly, and steps closer. He reaches up with the hand not holding his to play with the top of his scarf right under his jaw. It tingles. "Please tell me you're not just singing to me."

Kurt shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, from side to side. "Of course not," he breathes out.

And just like that, they're kissing.

Blaine's palm fits under his jaw, holding it there, just a light pressure, and he's leaning in, their chests pressed together, and Kurt feels himself falling backwards, a little, tipping—or maybe that's just his entire world spinning.

He surges back, letting go off Blaine's hand to wrap his arms around his neck instead, folding them there tightly and lifting himself up on his tiptoes as he kisses back with everything he has.

Their lips move against each other's, slotting together and sliding apart, in a teasing, push and pull that leaves them both breathless, faces flushed and laughing giddily when they finally pull back.

"You have _no_ idea how long I've wanted to do that," Blaine whispers, gripping Kurt's waist, where his hands ended up at some point.

Making a small noise, Kurt nods and leans up to kiss him again, a soft press of lips. "I think I have _some_ idea," he mumbles against his mouth, smiling, still, and tilts his face up to look at him.

Blaine's face is… radiant. "Please be mine."

"I said yes the moment I _met _you."

And then they're kissing again.

_12:30am_

It takes them about an hour to get back to Kurt's loft.

Blaine had insisted on accompanying him there, and Kurt had quickly shot off a text to Rachel to let her know Blaine's coming over and to _please not be there_, and ignores Rachel's '!' in favor of tilting his head to a side to let Blaine pepper more light kisses across the curve of his neck and shoulder as they walk down the street.

It seems that once you start kissing someone you really, really like to kiss, it's almost impossible to stop.

Kurt giggles, and reaches up with his hand to push at Blaine's forehead away from his neck teasingly, turning around and walking backwards, and Blaine's face is bright and smiling in front of him.

Lips cherry red, kiss-swollen, and hair a little unruly from Kurt's fingers not ten minutes ago when they'd had to stop to kiss against a street lamp.

"Stop walking away from me," Blaine calls out, laughing, and follows him, trotting up to catch up with him around the waist, and Kurt tips his head back—Blaine's lips land on the tip of his nose.

He nips at it.

It sends a swirl of butterflies down to Kurt's stomach again, and he smiles, nosing back at Blaine's cheek. "We're both going to freeze to death if we stay out here," he whispers into the skin.

"I'm not cold," Blaine insists, pressing his forehead against Kurt's and smiling at him warmly. "You make me_ super_hot."

Kurt lets out a laugh, and swats at Blaine's shoulder again, pulling back. "Oh, just come on, Casanova, I'm inviting you to my apartment," he emphasizes, and reaches down to tug on his hand.

"Oh." Blaine nods, and follows. "Got it."

_12:36am_

"Rachel's not here?" Blaine gasps out once they're inside, and Kurt's turned them over to press Blaine against the wall next to the door, kissing across his jaw.

He shakes his head. "She's sleeping at Brody's."

"Who's Brody?"

Kurt makes a noise as he pulls back, licking his lips and searching Blaine's face. "Does it matter?"

And Blaine's smiling again, eyes wickedly dark as he steps over. "No."

They manage to make it back to Kurt's room without bumping into many objects, and fall back onto his bed easily, amidst Kurt hissing at him to take off his shoes, before he finds himself straddling Blaine, knees on either side of his hips and looking down at him in wonder.

Both of their chests are heaving a little, and Kurt feels like a hundred degrees as he reaches up to tug off his sweater. "You're right, it is hot," he whines, and tosses it off to a side before crawling over Blaine's body and leaning down to kiss him again.

Their lips meet and Blaine immediately parts his own, his hands coming up around Kurt's neck, folding there and keeping him close as he slides his tongue past Kurt's lips and against his own.

It's a slick, sexy rhythm like waves, forward and backwards, their tongues slipping against the other between breathy moans and spikes of heat.

It's amazing, _kissing_ Blaine, in a way kissing has never been before.

The chase of his lips when he pulls back to kiss down his chin and to his neck, Blaine's lips so eager to taste and touch and suck, and oh, how Kurt wants him to mark him.

"_Blaine_," he moans quietly, his eyes closed, lips parted as he loses himself in the feeling of Blaine's mouth on his skin. And he wants it. He wants it _everywhere_. "Blaine, please."

"Mmm," Blaine hums into a hollow at the base of his neck, where he's sucking an nipping and tugging at the skin, molding it under his lips every which way he wants, and sending shivers down Kurt's spine with every feeling of his teeth.

It's electric.

His knees give out a little, sliding against the mattress until he's pressing Blaine down into the bed, face dropping until he's meeting his lips again hungrily, moaning as he claims them _his_ again.

Oh, _god_, he's so hard.

And Blaine, too, Blaine is _hard_, and hot against his hip as he grinds up against him, his hands running down the back of his shirt, gripping his waist.

He _wants_ in a way he's never wanted before.

"Kurt," Blaine groans into his mouth, and squeezes at his waist. "I need—mmph—we should—"

"Yeah," Kurt agrees breathily, moaning as he presses kisses over Blaine's cheeks, nose, face, down to his neck and starts unbuttoning Blaine's polo. "You drive me crazy."

Blaine's head tips back, licking his lips, and he skims his fingers up his back again. "Can I touch you?" he asks, and Kurt nods into his neck, working his shirt open, still, until the top buttons are undone.

Then Blaine's hands are on his ass—and Blaine starts losing it, a little. "Oh my _god_," he moans, flexing his fingers around the flesh. "Fuck, you have such a nice butt." Kurt hums, pushing back against his hands as he kisses at the newly revealed skin of his collarbone.

Their hips have started up a rhythm at some point, undulating forward and backward as they rub themselves against the other, seeking friction, hot and needy, whines still escaping their mouths.

"Come on," Kurt gasps out, all of a sudden, pulling back from Blaine's neck to look down at him, lifting himself up onto his hands. "Pants off. Please."

Blaine blinks up at him, looking a little dazed, before he nods, still staring. "You—wow."

"What?"

"You are _so_ sexy," Blaine whispers, his eyes shining, and he moves his hands from Kurt's ass up to frame his face. Pulls him down for another kiss before letting go. "Pants. Yes."

They work out of them, Kurt rolling off of him onto his back to tug off the skinny jeans he'd worn—because he knows his butt looks good in them—and Blaine's out of his own faster than he is, and rolling onto his side to run a palm up Kurt's stomach, under his shirt, pushing it up and dipping to press his lips to the soft skin of his tummy.

Kurt giggles. "Blaine, stop."

Peering up at him, Blaine smiles and blows a raspberry onto his belly before turning his face to where Kurt's clad in his underwear, his cock hard and curving up towards his stomach, a prominent bulge under the soft cotton.

His heart skips a few beats as Blaine skims his fingers over it. "This okay?" he hears him ask, quietly, and can only whimper out his agreement, then Blaine's mouthing over his cock.

"Oh—oh, god," Kurt whines, tossing an arm over his eyes, and Blaine presses his lips to the hot skin of his dick over his underwear. "_Blaine."_

He comes up, turning his hand around to cup him through his briefs and leans down to kiss him again. Kurt makes a noise against his lips, kissing back and arching up into his palm.

Blaine is pressing into the side of his hip, still hard and warm and Kurt reaches down between them, sliding his hand under Blaine's arm to get between his legs and start rubbing over him as well.

He's not sure how long they stay like that. Kissing, their mouths sliding against each other, taking moments to take a breath and stare at each other instead while they work each other off with their hands, hips arching up into the touch and panting small breaths as they get hotter and closer-

and hotter—

tighter—

_peaking—_

_1:04am_

"Mm…"

Kurt sinks back into his bed after having cleaned up, clad in a new pair of briefs, and watching Blaine in another pair of his own—he finds he quite likes it. Something… warm settling in his stomach at the thought of Blaine wearing his clothes.

Which is funny, because the first time they met, Kurt wore _Blaine's_ clothes.

"That was nice," he whispers, settling around Blaine's chest, tucking his head into the crook of his neck.

He feels Blaine's body shake a little as he chuckles. "I think it went beyond _nice_, but have it your way," Blaine smiles.

"The best?"

"The best."

Kurt smiles, too, and presses a kiss to the side of Blaine's neck. "I like you wearing my underwear," he whispers a little mischievously into his ear. "Even if it's a little tight."

"That's just because I have a big—"

"Oh, shut up," Kurt chuckles, rolling his eyes and tightening an arm around Blaine's waist, feeling Blaine's hand come around his own back to keep him there.

Blaine hums, turning his face to press his lips to the top of his head, and Kurt settles further into his body, feeling warm, happy, sated. "Last time you wore _my_ underwear I didn't get to see it," he says, almost casually. "Maybe we should do that again."

Kurt's stomach does that flipping thing again. "Maybe we should."

"Good."

"Good."


End file.
